


Mia

by Featherly



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Anorexia, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, MIA - Freeform, Rexi, ana - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-01-05 16:24:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12193464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Featherly/pseuds/Featherly
Summary: Dick needed to be thin. He would be thin, just not with proper diet or exercise.





	1. Chapter 1

Dick wanted to lose weight. This was simple enough, and plenty of people knew this. When he brought it up in converstion he got the usual replies;  
“You’re not fat, you’re broad.”  
“Why? You’re fine the way you are.”  
“As long as you do it the proper way.”

That last one always hit him in the face. The proper way. Diet and exercise. He already did this though; it was a requirement of his work for christ sake. But he wanted to be thin, not ‘broad’. He was the widest everywhere he went, and when he looked at his friends and how thin they were he was jealous. Superboy didn’t count though, he wasn’t even human as far as Dick was concerned.

He didn’t know when it began, but he knew his habits were becoming dangerous. 

It all started off innocently enough: he looked up thin images online, found blogs of dedicated anorexics, used them to his inspiration. It went downhill slowly, as he started skipping meals and exercising more. He started making rules for himself, strict rules he had to adhere to or he would die. Sip between every mouthful. 35 bites minimum for everything that went in his mouth. When he was eating with others the moment someone else finished, he was finished too. If he was out and the thinnest person there wasn’t eating, he sure as hell wasn’t either. 

Dick began to lose weight easily enough. His collarbones started showing, and his legs were becoming smaller quickly. People saw him and congratulated him, and Dick thanked them. It was the best feeling ever, or so he thought it was. 

A better feeling came when he discovered bulimia. He finished a meal, drank more than he could, and let himself hurl everything into the toilet like it was nothing. His stomach became empty, and it was the best feeling in the world. He threw up maybe 8 times before it became considerably less solid, and it worked. He was becoming so much thinner. He hated when he ate too much, but enjoyed the feeling after as he bent over the toilet.

That was the benefit to living in a giant house people hardly occupied. Noone was any the wiser until he started getting light headed. They chose to ignore it though. He was smart, and most likely to be doing it properly, and if he wasn’t, that was his problem to figure out. 

**

The group decided to see a movie, that new stephen king horror that everyone was so fond of. So they loped to the local cinema in their civillian clothes and prepared themselves for a fright fest.

“I hope its better than that other king movie, with the time things that eat time” declared Wally.

“Watching a microwave work is more intereting than that” decided Artemis.

“I haven’t heard of any of them. Why does this stephen man have so many movies anyway?” asked M'gann.

“Yeah, and why should this one be any different?” asked Superboy.

“While his writing is superior, the movies based upon them are lacking. I expect this one will be no different” decided aqualad.

Dick was trailing behind at the back of the pack holding his collarbone with one consderably slender hand. He could swear they were popping out more the previous week...

They hopped on an escalator, and Dick leaned against the side with his eyes closed. He could just sleep during the movie. 

Wally bought seven buckets of popcorn to share amongst everyone, and they chatted merrily as they went towards their designated screen. Dick followed in a haze. His head hurt, his limbs hurt, and he was ready to just drop at any moment. 

“Up here guys!” Called Wally from the back row. He had run ahead and found their seats already. The rest followed his lead. Dick was half way before he tripped. Superboy offered his assistance since he was right in front of Dick, but he hit the offered hand away with agitation. Superboy gave a grimmace and made his way to his own seat. Dick got to his soon enough; right between Wally and M'gann. 

Wally was already half way through one bucket of popcorn and the others had their own. M’gann gave Dick one. He rejected it.

“But it’s a movie. You have to eat popcorn at a movie, its custom!” M’gann said in a playful offence.

“Yeah skinny, eat it up.” said Wally. Skinny. Dick liked that.

“Leave the guy alone.” said Artemis, throwing popcorn into her own mouth. Dick knew she wouldnt be throwing it up later, and she was the thinnest one there. He could eat his popcorn.

**

Dick had fucked up. When the lights came on again after the movie, he a little over a quarter of a bucket left, but Artemis still had just under half a bucket left. He had gorged himself more than the thinnest person. He was fat, and he was disgusting.

He was tired still. He tried to sleep, but everytime anything happened in the movie Wally’s loud “WHOA-HOA!” would wake him up. He was agitated, he was depressed, and he felt like a failure. “That bit in the house with the asthma kid, hey Dick?” asked Wally innocently, elbowing Dick in the rib. Dick punched his hand away and gave him a dangerous glare. Wally was shocked. This punch was obviously to hurt him... Dick never did that.

“Everything alright Dick?” asked the speedster. 

“I’m fine.” said Dick with a finality. To emphasise this, he stood up and turned his back, walking towards the aisle to end the questioning. He got three steps before he fell forward.

It was only a second, but he hit his head on a seat going down. Now he was agitated, he was depressed, he was a failure, and his neck hurt.

His friends were around him, but in the thin space between the cinema seats it was difficult. 

“You alright there?” asked Artemis. 

Dick got to his knees and rubbed his head, looking down. “Yeah, fine. Got up too fast.” he stood slowly, still clutching his head, and moved towards the aisle again but much slower. His friends looked at him and each other, worry evident on their faces. Dick had developed terrible outbursts, and he looked like a small breeze could blow him away. Dick wanted to get home, but he knew he wouldnt tonight. 

Of course he ended up at Wally’s house. He didnt even think it was Wally’s idea. Probably one of the girls. He could hear it now; ‘Wally, youre his bestie. You can get the answers out of him better than us. Just find out whats going on with him!’ They were annoying like that.

So Wally and Dick sat on Wally’s bed and played on their phones. They did teenager things, and then it happened. That coversation starter that so many bulimics dreaded. “You look sick. Are you sure everythings okay?” 

“Yeah. Fine. Like I said.

“Yeah, it’s just... Youve been short tempered lately, you have fainting spells, you look really sick and--”

“I told you it’s nothing, alright! And even if it was you should mind your own business.”

This came out nasty and snarky. Dick didn’t care though, and Wally knew when to drop it. He stared at his friend for a while, before declaring it was time for bed. “Yeah, you do that.” was Dick’s reply.

When he knew Wally was fast asleep, he went towards the bathroom with the intention of catching up to Artemis, but first a stop to the kitchen for 5 glasses of water, one after the other.

He hunched himself over the toilet and pushed on his stomach. He pushed at the part just under his ribs and forced everything up. The first three times it came up clear; it was only the water he had just drank. Then what he wanted to come up did, but it was worse than any other time. The water came up fine, but dear god that popcorn. It was thick, and the popcorn still looked whole. His vomit was yellow and chunky, like soup with only corn in it. He forced it out from the back of his throat, breathing it out moreso than throwing it up normally. He made gagging noises, and it got stuck on the centre of his tongue before he spat it out. It tasted disgusting and acidic. The consistency was so thick it could only be compared to soup if that soup were old and mixed with gelatin, and when it finally fell from his mouth it hit the water hard and created a splash. 

Dick had never tried to throw up popcorn before. He thought bread was the most difficult, but he could see now that he was wrong. 

After eleven more painful attempts at removing that fatty filth from his body, Dick gave up. He flushed the toilet and looked at himself in the mirror. He was pale, and his teeth were going yellow. His eyes were red, and his lips were dry. His bones were only beginning to show, but he knew he would get there soon enough. He made eye contact with himself in the mirror, and jumped when he heard a knock on the door. Three sharp hits and his name called. “Dick, you in there?”

“Uh, yeah. Just needed to use the bathroom. Ill be out soon.”

“You... You know I can hear you right? From upstairs?”

“Uuuuuh no. No i didn’t realise that.”

There was silence between them, each thinking of what the other had said. Dick left after some time and returned to Wally’s room without even making eye contact. He lay down in Wally’s bed and tried to sleep. Wally returned and joined him in the bed, facing away from him, (it was for convenience, okay!) Dick pretended to be asleep, and eventually he really was.

**

The next morning, Dick woke up late to Wally playing a handheld video game, Dick figured it would be the switch since aparently the 3ds was already so last decade. He was quiet enough, and didn’t move at all, which means Dick woke up naturally, but that made no sense since he was still tired. 

“Whats the time?” asked Dick, rolling onto his back.

“9.30 in the morning. I assume you don’t want breakfast?”

“So last night; it was just a bad batch of popcorn, yeah?” 

“no. Im fine, everyone else is fine, the problem is you.”

“Actually im fine. Ive got this under control. So under control, that you dont even-” 

“No more, Dick. I want to help you, and if the others knew they would want to help you too.”

“I don’t need help, I just need to be thin.”

“But you don’t need to be.”

“I don’t need to be anything.”

“Dick, i dont want you to waste away. This is dangerous! You could actually die from this.” 

“I really don’t care Wally.” Dick made eye contact with Wally to emphasise his point. “Sometimes my heart hurts, and sometimes I feel like I’m going to collapse and just fall asleep wherever I am. I worry a tooth is going to rot away, and i worry that my hair will fall out, but i dont worry enough to care.”

“I care.” this was Wally’s desperate last attempt. He didnt know what else to do. He put a hand on Dick’s shoulder, leaned in, and looked him in the eyes. “I really care. And I don’t want to see you waste away. Please dont do this to us.” 

Dick didn’t even break the eye contact when he said “I... Don’t... Care.”

Their eyes stayed locked for a moment longer, and Dick was the first to look away. But wally kept staring. He stared, and kept doing it when Dick started rubbing his head. “Need water.” is what he said. He crawled over Wally and went to the kitchen, starting the need for excessive water again in a painful attempt to lose weight and look how he wanted. He had to get thin, really thin. Or he would die.


	2. Chapter 2

One week before thanksgiving and dick was only down by 6 kilograms, 13 and a half pounds. He was 73 kilos, 160 pounds, and was nowhere near his goal weight. 

He failed some days, and others it seemed like people deliberately stayed around him just so he couldn’t do what he wanted. He felt that Wally did this, but the others didnt know. Maybe they had guessed? 

Dick was dreading thanksgiving. There would be two main events; the first at home with the small batfamily, the other with the young justice team and the league in a nearby room. He would have to be extra stealthy, especially under Bruce’s watchful eye. 

Of course the batman knew something was up. He could smell it on Dick whenever the boy spoke, and he had gone out at night perhaps 4 times in the previous three months. The most recent one had Batman catching Robin mid-fall when he stumbled off a roof without his grapple.  
“What the hell was that?” he asked.  
“wha- um. Dinner. Probably.”

Bruce had glared at him with a half raised lip. Dick said he would eat after patrol, and as a lie Batman found it lazy, an uninspired deceit unbecoming of a teenager. That had been a month ago, and Dick hadn’t gone out at night since.

Bruce usually returned to the manor to find Dick exercising or sleeping. He had already shrunk out of his uniform, the reduced muscle obvious when he wore old clothes that had fit him three months prior. He never had an issue with Dick’s weight before, but if he kept up whatever he was doing, he would need a new partner.

The thought of thanksgiving had Dick more on edge and more drastic than he had previously been. Only one week, and all of his progress would be ruined. He had to plan, and he had to lose as much as possible to compensate the amount he would have to eat.

He doubled his current workout. This left him more tired every time. He worked out 7 times a day between 7.am and 7.pm, once every two hours. Each workout 25 minutes, which he bumped up to 50 minutes. He set alarms and stuck to his pattern ritually, skipping breakfast and lunch and eating half of his dinner. If it was unhealthy or more than 600 calories, he purged it. The snacks he allowed himself included celery, cucumber, oranges, and a drop of honey for the sugar.

Dinner was usually lonesome. Batman went out every night, so Dick could take his time and leave half (or less) of whatever he had. He could play on his phone and sip between bites in peace, and when he was full, or when he decided he had had too much, he could take his plate to the kitchen, throw out what was left, and continue his night as he pleased. 

The week long intensive workout did very little for Dick. He had lost a further 2 pounds and left the manor only to run, but still looked the same. It was as if his body shape didnt change, but the size did; like he was being shrunk by a ray gun in a movie very, very slowly. 

The morning of thanksgiving was similar for Dick, only more intense. he worked out from 7 until 8, 9 until 10, and 11 until 12. He wiped his brow after this workout, and saw Alfred standing at his side.  
“I hope you wear deoderant when you go out tonight.”

Dick’s head spun as he reached for a towel to his left. He missed it twice and grunted before bringing it to his face to remove the sweat that dripped from his nose to his chest. “Of course. Might even have a shower. What times everything happening?”

Alfred gave Dick a look. The plans had been discussed four times over the previous two days, and Dick was present every time. And now he was barely even forming proper words. Alfred knew what he said, but it came out as “o, cors. Mideva hav a showh. Whadimes everthn hap-n?”

He kneeled in front of Dick and put one hand on the boy’s shoulder and held the other up in front of him showing him the index fingerand the middle finger. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Dick looked up with half lidded eyes. “Huh?”  
“How many fingers Dick?”

He concentrated hard for a moment and shook his head before hanging it from wariness. “Two. Middle and index. What’s happening tonight?”

Alfred spared a sympathetic look. “Dinner with Bruce and Barbara at 6.30, they will patrol for a few hours, leave around 9 for the league party. I think a good hearty meal is in order for you tonight.”

“Yeah. Cant wait.” Dick drank his water deeply and rubbed his head a lot.

“Will you be having lunch today?”

“Yeah, but I’ll make it again.”

Alfred nodded and left Dick alone. The younger boy finished his water slowly and went to his room.

**

6.30 came faster than Dick had anticipated. He had finished his workout half an hour before and was nervous. They had to finish in half an hour or Dick would miss his last workout...

Dick entered the dining room to Barbara and Bruce having a great conversation about something or other. Barbara was flailing her arms, and Bruce was watching, laughing, giving his full attention to this hysterical story. When he saw Dick, he invited his ward to sit down across from him, which he did. 

“Get up to anything today Dick?” asked Barbara.

“Just sat around the place, you know. The usual.” He didn’t make eye contact. His head was resting on one hand, his hair falling over his eyes. He was pale and looked sickly. What he said came out slurred.

“You alright Dick? You don’t look so good.” Barbaras concern was thoughful and innocent. Dick figured she knew too.

Alfred entered the room with a turkey on a tray surrounded by potato and pumpkin. “I hope you all have space” he said, setting the monster bird down in front of Barbara. “I’ll be back in a tick, I just need to get the rest of the vegetables. Bruce, would you be so kind?” 

“Of course Alfred” said Bruce, standing to help his father figure. The pair left the room and it was only Barbara and Dick.  
She leaned over the table, and in a hushed tone said “You should really stop. You can’t see what its doing to you.”  
Dick made eye contact, his face furious. He still didn’t want the conversation. 

“I was where you are. Trying to get thin, throwing up every night, exercising like crazy. But I beat it. I gave it up and accepted myself and now I’m better than I was.”

“You want a damn medal? I’m not you. Relating to me does nothing. This convsrsation does nothing. I mean really, how do people expect these conversations to go? ‘yowzers, you’re right! This is dangerous and im too dumb to know any better but you beat it so that means I should. Because you said. You know whats right for me and I dont.’ hate to break it to you, but I’m not dumb enough for that.” He was leaning over the table, staring her in the eye with intensity, yelling at her under his breath. “This conversation would be pointless, and I don’t have the time to waste. I’m so happy recovery worked for you, doesn’t mean I wanna try it. If I die from this, at least I die thin.” 

Dick held the eye contact until Bruce reentered the room with Alfred behind him. Both immediately recognised the tension in the room. They placed the dishes down silently, took their seats, and said “eat up, before it gets cold.” 

Bruce’s eyes darted between Barbara and Dick, silently willing one to say what had just gone down. Barbara and Dick stared at each other, one saying ‘don’t say a thing’, the other saying ‘it’s for your own good...’

“Everything okay here?” asked Bruce.

Both were silent, and then Dick said “Fine” before placing meat, pumpkin and beans onto his plate.

Dinner was going agonisingly slowly, especially since the small talk had started up again. Dick was short with everyone, his temper burning all the time. He wanted to cry when he realised the food he was eating really was making him feel better. He ate more than he usually would, and it felt good. This made him feel even shittier.

He ate enough for his head to clear, and he got into a civil conversation. He forgot about his rules and ate for pleasure, even taking a second helping. He laughed and smiled, but stopped when his alarm sounded. Right on 7 oclock.  
He panicked, looking at each person in turn. “Um, so I’ll see you guys round 9?” he asked as he stood. 

“Where are you going Dick? We’re having a good time” said Bruce sounding a touch hurt.

“Yeah, but I’m kinda tired and want a break before we go out for more food.” he looked at his watch, finding he was already two minutes late. He almost ran out of the room, calling “I’ll see you later!” over his shoulder.

Bruce watched him go in silence and turned to Barbara when he was out of hearing range. “So what was that all about before?” he asked in a stern-don’t fuck with me- voice.

**

Dick knew they were talking about him. 

They were all in the same room, so it was only natural. He still didn’t care though.

Dick worked out for the following hour, a workout more intense than any of the previous ones. The energy from eating was effective, but he felt sick afterwards. 

He threw up what he could with 45 minutes left until batgirl and batman finished their patrol. He felt light headed immediately after and stumbled to his bedroom. He collapsed on his bed and was out within seconds, teeth still orange, half digested turkey skill on the corner of his lip.

Bruce was back fifteen minutes early. He was troubled by barbara’s confirmation of what he had feared. He had to bring it up somehow... But he didn’t know how. He didn’t have a contingency plan for this, but he should have. He knew barbara had it when she was younger, but he never though Dick would suffer from the same issues. It wasn’t as common in boys...

He walked into Dick’s room and found the boy curled up, sleeping peacefully. He was shivering in his sleep, and lying there, his clothes clinged to his small frame. Bruce finally saw just how much his body had changed.

He moved towards his adopted son and shook him gently. “Time to wake up. You need a shower before we go.” 

Dick opened his eyes and asked “Hwuh?-” and the stench of vomit offended Bruce’s nostrils. He didn’t react, but instead clapped Dick on the shoulder twice and repeated what he had said. 

Dick stood, almost tumbled, and shuffled out the door, showing no recognition of Bruce. He was droopy, obviously tired, and as pale as the winter outside. He didn't speak, but the past 30 seconds had spoken volumes to Bruce.

The shower was cold of course. Shivering did help tremendously with weightloss (according to the blogs anyway.) He drifted as the water fell over him, and when he stepped out he avoided the mirror. He looked down at his body, and from his view he could see a slight bulge of his stomach. He was bloated from the stuffing and bread he had eaten, even after throwing up his meal.  
He looked up and into the mirror, unable to resist it. He saw how his collar bones popped, how his ribs poked through in a perfect arch. Hen he saw his thighs, which were still large, from his perspective anyway. A disgusting fat body.

He covered himself quickly with the towel and made his way to his room where his ugly sweater and slacks were. He opened his door, and found Bruce was still in there, looking at the papers on his desk.  
“Do you mind?” asked Dick, no malice in his voice. “I’d rather keep my privates private.” 

Bruce looked up and down Dick’s body one last time. Even under a towel he looked too small. “I don’t know what to do Dick.” 

Dick gave him a wary look with wide eyes. “You could start by giving me some privacy”.

Bruce walked out the door saying “Isn’t that the issue in the first place?” He could be heard walking down the hall, mumbling to himself; ‘too many secrets, thats it.’

Dick rubbed his eyes, closed his door, and got ready for the second dinner.

**

They entered the base via zeta beam, unable to imagine the traffic conditions at that point. They entered at a similar time to flash and kidflash, the younger sporting an equally ugly sweater.

“Bruce-ayyy! And Babs! Great to see you both. You too of course Dick. I suspect you’re staying in my house tonight?”

“Most likely Mr Allen” replied Dick. He was Dick Grayson tonight, so it was essential he kept his polite demeanor. 

“I look forward to it. Now go you two, of to the kids table!” flash said this as he shepharded the other two into the next room, where Clark and lois had set up a lovely table for the justice league members.

“Hey, I guess” said Wally to Bruce and Barbara’s backs. They were already across the room. “Cmon then. M'gann set everything up so we should have a blast!” said Wally with a toothy grin. Dick gave a half smile and the pair went and joined their friends around the considerably smaller, but equally as nice table which was surrounded by the other four members, each sporting a hideous sweater.

**

“You seem really out of it Bruce? Is the juice alright?” asked a concerned Diana Prince.

Bruce looked up like a deer caught in headlights. “Huh? Oh. Sorry. Minds elsewhere.”

“That’s unlike you Bruce” observed Oliver Queen. 

“What is troubling you?” asked Martian Manhunter. “Though I do not wish to pry.”

“Oh nothing really. It’s just Robin. Dick. He’s having... Body issues.”

“Oh-” said Clark Kent. “What does that mean?” 

“He’s just-” Bruce waved one hand around, unsure how to describe it without being too forward. “It’s not really my place to say, I suppose. I’m sure he will work it out. I should stop being so rudely distracted.” 

“Any way I can help?” asked Dinah Lance.

Bruce looked at the woman who had spoken, taking in her appearence. She had probably been through the same thing at some point too. “Yeah, I think you could actually.”

**

Dick wanted to cry. 

They had dished out the plates beforehand, so Dick had a mountain of food. He tried to pick at it slowly, his excuse being that he had already eaten. The conversation wasn’t distracting enough, and everyone noticed how little he was eating.  
“Eat up skinny. Someone might think you're an anorexic” said Artemis in a joking tone.  
“Or a bulimic” added Wally under his breath. Artemis and Dick gave him a look having both heard him, but Artemis let it drop.

“You know if i was obese, and you called me fatty, that would be seen as rude. So why do you think it’s appropriate to comment on my weight at the opposite end of the spectrum?”  
He was losing his cool demeanor.

“While I agree with you, I don’t think it is warrented to take Artemis’ comment to heart. Its in her personality to make such jokes.” said Aqualad.

“You don’t choose how I take things.” Dick was becoming inpatient with his friends. 

“You have been acting differently the past few months Robin. And we have noticed the weight loss... We don’t know how else to bring it up.” M’gann was choosing her words carefully, but not carefully enough.

Dick stood, dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, and said “Thankyou for the meal.” He walked towards the zeta beams, and just before he stepped in, Bruce yelled out to him. “RICHARD GRAYSON.”

Dick stopped in his tracks, an automatic response. He turned in Bruce’s direction and blinked away the vertigo of sudden movement.

Bruce pointed in front of himself like someone motioning a dog in their direction. A sharp stab downward, and Dick moved forward, his head hung. He stopped where Bruce had pointed, and the team watched with curiosity, unsure of what was happening at all.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice.” Bruce put two fingers under Dick’s chin and motioned his head up so they dould make eye contact. “Dinah wants to speak to you. When you’re ready... I want you to stay at Wally’s tonight. Tomorrow I want you to come home, and we’re gonna have a really long talk.”

Tears were forming in Dick’s eyes, either from tiredness, frustration, or perhaps he was just fed up. Bruce waited for a response, and received one in the form of a nod. He removed his fingers and Dick’s head dropped down again. Bruce looked at Dick and felt indignant. 

“Straight back. Head up. You're a Wayne tonight. You will hold yourself with dignity in the company of others.” Bruce sounded stern, so Dick did as he said. He took a deep breath and returned to the table, a twinge of awkwardness surrounding them all. Dick still didn’t care though.

**Author's Note:**

> Another passion fic based off my own experiences. Should probably stop doing that tbh.


End file.
